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Elke's parents had gone home, and Elke, jonesing for time with her Graves family, had immediately come over and begged Arthur and Van to let her make pizza.

They had, of course, said yes. It meant neither of them had to make dinner, and Elke made good pizza. True, pizza was like one of the two things she could make without causing a terrible, terrible mess and also perhaps a fire, but she made it amazingly well. This was why she was up to her elbows in flour, pretending to forget things because she had supposedly been gone for a year with no access to a kitchen in which to make pizza. She had even, after a moment's hesitation, wiped her forehead with one floury hand.

This was something no Elke in her right mind would do. The rest of the family was convinced, and had gone... somewhere. She hadn't quite caught it, trying not to rub the flour off her forehead. Sure, she looked artfully disheveled, but she was so disheveled. There was flour on the collar of her navy blue dress.

Now, though, she'd finished shaping the crust and spreading sauce and cheese over the breadth of the pizza, and Elke was asking Grayson, "What kind of toppings do we want? Pepperoni or peppers or pineapple or what? Do we want all of them? I don't really like peppers, I could put them on half if you want it?"

She smiled uncertainly. The dark tone of her dress drew out the olive tone of her skin, the black undertones of her blue hair, and, unfortunately, the pinkish red of a forming scar on her bicep. If she'd thought the outfit through, she would have worn something else; the last thing anyone needed was a reminder of the hell that was Barren Pines. Batting her hair out of her eyes, she continued talking as if she hadn't paused. "Do you think I can wash my face yet?"

"Oh good," said Elke, sounding greatly relieved. Not about the worry, but it had been bothering her so much. Necessary deception, but arghhh. Elke liked to look pretty, no matter what terribly unappetizing thing she was putting up with.

She was putting pepperoni on the pizza in the shape of a smiley face. A very freckly smiley face, but clearly a smiley face; the cheese even looked like later in life, after cooking, it might be the proper yellow for a smiley face. That sort of thing was sort of what Elke did, when not learning languages or sucking like hell at fighting or making diner bunnies or whatever it was that Elke did in her free time.

Her camera was sitting on the counter. She picked it up and snapped a picture of Grayson, checked the screen. It was a good picture. When wasn't it a good picture? With a sheepish look, she set the device back down and returned to her pizza. Concentrating on the pizza, she shifted a few pepperoni slices around, and picked up the pan to put it in the oven. She set the timer and then joined Grayson against the counter, close enough that acting like a little kid and chanting I'm not touching you would have been appropriate.

It looked, honestly looked, like she was going to talk about something unimportant. She had a dreamy look in her eyes, the kind that usually preceded questions like Aren't Jude and Hero a cute couple or What does your new school uniform look like. When she turned to Grayson, though, what she said was: "I talked to them. I called Maman, right before her birthday. She answered me, she was Maman." Her accent, multinational and normally unnoticeable, got uncommonly strong when she was riled up like that. Near the end, she was barely understandable, but through some miracle she kept her voice low enough that it might not attract notice.

She rested her head against his chest, listened to his heartbeat. It was over, they were alive, no permanent harm had come to anyone. Maman and Papa remembered her, Voirrey was all right, she had pretty new clothes and her possessions hadn't been burnt... Like bad dreams had to, Barren Pines had ended, and she ended up back where she belonged. She wiggled her arms free and hugged Grayson. Just... making sure he was still there, you know?

With a shiver, she said, "I don't think we were supposed to know we were dead." That was a horrifying thought: what in the world could anyone want with a bunch of corpses?

Elke closed her eyes, content to just stand there for a minute. She would have stood there until the timer went off and it was time to take out the pizza, but-- "Ow," she said, cracking one eye open.

It was, of course, her scar. She flushed, realizing that she should have worn a light jacket or something. Grayson had already apologized, and she hadn't even wanted that. He had been forgiven the minute she'd woken up and remembered who he was. Sigh--at least nothing else was scarring. She would be a patchwork of scratches and bite marks if it had. Still, she needed a distraction... What sort of thing would distract Grayson?

"I need a new picture of you and Tristan and Dad and Pop," she said, "can I get one before I go home? Maman threw out all my photographs."

"We'll have a picture all together. Can I have one with just you? I can give you copies of the family picture if you want it," Elke rambled. "It wouldn't be any trouble, hardly anybody goes in the Crystal photography labs. I like the labs, though, they're quiet, you should come see them sometime, if you want to." She sounded pleased; it wouldn't be too far of a jump to say that she sounded ecstatic. Maman had given her a corkboard and it hung over her desk. So far it had very little thumb-tacked onto it, just a very new family picture and one of her father's old military medals. A newspaper article on her little brother winning a short story contest. It was empty. It would fill up when she got her schedule, and when a patrol schedule was worked out. And when Photo club started up again, and when Hero picked a time for Saturday morning sparring...

The question about her shampoo threw her off her train of thought. She reached up to touch her hair, ran her fingers through a lock of it like she was making sure it wasn't greasy. Of course it wasn't; Elke took good care of her appearance, and her appearance included her hair. "Y-yeah, this one is strawberries and the old one was lime and orange, why?... Should I change it back?" She didn't know whether to be flattered or a little creeped out that her brother remembered the scent of her particular shampoo from a whole entire year ago. It was Grayson, though, which meant that there was nothing at all sketch about the question at all. Elke decided she was flattered, because that meant the last scent had been memorable. (She still wanted to know why exactly he'd asked, though.)

She moved back half a step, looked up at her black-haired brother with a confused look. "Are you okay, Grayson?" Had it been the scar? It shouldn't be the scar. "You can talk to me, you know," she emphasized, putting her hands on his shoulders to support herself when she stood on her tiptoes--the better to peer at her stubborn brother.

She wrapped her arms around her brother again and hugged him, tightly. He still had to bend down for her to properly hug him, which was a nice thing to have not changed. Elke insisted she wasn't done growing yet, but she'd fit just like this before they'd died and it'd been a year. She'd even had two months of life in which to grow even a little--and she hadn't. Clearly she was going to stay petite forever.

"All right," she mumbled. At least her hair smelled nice. Different, but apparently it was fine. Was it that noticeable?

Making a face at him, she nodded. "All right," Elke repeated, "And I'll be here if you need me. Pinky swear." She loosened one arm and held it up between them, pinky finger extended.

You only made a pinky swear if you really meant it. And Elke did mean it, as she always did. Lying seemed to be somewhat beyond her, which... explained why she was feigning amnesia on the organ trafficking ring. 'What, what are you talking about' worked much better than stuttering and blushing her way through lies.

"Did Tristan really trash all your stuff, Grayson?"

"Poor Grayson," sighed Elke. "I'll beat him up for you!"

That was a rotten lie.

She turned as the oven ding!'d, grabbing oven mitts and giving the oven a look. It would not defeat her this time. (Ovens liked to catch her right between where the mitt and her sleeves diverged. She did not approve of this and though she'd never gotten burned-burned, she didn't intend to leave herself open to burn-burning. If glaring at the oven helped, she would not stop.

The cheese of the pizza was bubbling when Elke pulled it out. This was normal, because Elke didn't like Italian pizza; she liked crunchy Greek pizza, as she would happily tell you any day of the week. Because Elke was the cook, that meant that she got to make whatever kind of pizza she wanted. Also, Greek pizza was yummy.

She was searching out a pizza cutter, humming happily (was that Frere Jacques, again? She knew some Spice Girls at least). Then, staring at the pizza as it cooled, she asked suddenly, "You're going to Meadowview now, right? Can I see your uniform?" After a moment of silence, she turned to look at her brother and added, "I'll let you see miiine~"

She watched him scowl, wide-eyed with a small smile. That might mean things were back to normal; she dug in the cabinets for plates, pulled down two and put a piece of pizza on each. One plate she nudged over to her brother, the other she kept for herself.

"Awww, but Grayson," she complained, "I've not seen the Meadowview uniform for like, a year!" Of course, she had been dead. "What if they've changed it? They used to have such cute shirts. I liked those shirts." Elke stared at him, making a silly and overdone thoughtful expression.

Then she smiled a little wider, giggling. "My uniform makes me look like I'm Turkish," she whined. She was Turkish, even if only half and even if she'd never been there, so... "I look all dark and stuff. It's dumb."

Shorts, she thought, were nice. So breezy and easy to move in! But not as pretty as a skirt. Elke was torn between sympathizing and asking to steal one of his uniform shirts.

"Want a hug," she asked, which was really code for 'you're getting a hug so don't resist, ok?'

Hmmm. Elke pictured the Meadowview high school uniform she remembered, scouted around her memories of a year ago for Grayson in the uniform, and then... giggled. Ohhh, that was such a silly uniform on Grayson. (It was because he was so pale! If he tanned like she did, well, then it would be a non-issue. Black and orange look nice together, after all.)

"You are ridiculous," she informed him, which was kind of hypocritical as she was laughing over a mental image. "I still love you, though." Elke sauntered back over to Grayson and into his arms, asking, "Why are you making that face? Do I smell funny or something?" She made a silly exaggerated frowning face, then giggled. Again, and louder.

Then she turned a serious look on Grayson and asked, "Can I borrow one of your uniform shirts? Pleeeease?"